


before the lights

by orphan_account



Category: UNIQ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, M/M, Model!Yixuan, Stylist!Wenhan, UST, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 23:36:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7013059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“perfect,” wenhan’s face is hard to read up close, his smile and eyes indecipherable, “it looks perfect.”</p><p>and just like that, never has yixuan so much wanted a camera in his hand instead of trained on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	before the lights

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to @squarepaca on twitter for reminding me that this is a Thing that should happen and @askuniq who is forever an inspiration

“so this is for me?"

 

yixuan yawns, bringing his cup of coffee to his lips, trying to keep the skepticism out of his tone. he likes to be kind to the stylists and their creative visions but this particular ensemble is more adventurous than he’d usually care for. a stripy latex-like turtleneck sits underneath a loose zigzag print button-up, leather leggings hanging next to them like a taunt.

 

it’s not that he’s adverse to colour or allergic to it, just that the magazines that usually book him have a certain preference in dressing him like a prepubescent teen going through an emo phrase with their father’s credit card. he’s lost count of all the variations of black he’s worn from the classic obsidian of blazers in formal wear specials to the coal of a sleeveless hoodie for a sports double spread.

 

but though refreshing as it is to see something different from the usual, it’s just a tad too early for leather pants.

 

“hold on,” his manager peers around his body in the doorway, looking up from his phone and shrugs indifferently, “it’s the only thing there so yes. i suppose they might not have decided on the other ones for the spread yet.” he checks his phone and tuts, furrowing his brows, “we’re behind schedule though so you’d better get dressed into that for now.” still looking down at his screen, he gives yixuan a light push into the dressing room, “just get started. i’ll try to find the stylist to do the adjustments when you’re done.”

 

he shuts the door after him, leaving yixuan alone with five reflections of himself, and the dubious outfit.

 

there’s the temptation, yixuan thinks, putting his coffee down on the bench and stripping off the shirt he’d thrown on this morning, to haggle with the stylist about the blatant eyesore he’s faced with. he trusts, of course, that the outfit would show up well on camera but whether he’d turn out looking just as good is another question. crazy patterns have never sat well with him or his closet and anything tighter than skinny jeans on his legs cuts off his blood flow after two hours.

 

that rebelling thought is dismissed quickly.  

 

for him, negotiation is always a dangerous issue, coming to blows over fragmented pride on both sides. it's not his style. after all, he prides himself on being easy to work with. he gets along with everyone in the industry, humouring those too big for their boots and sending small signals of assurance to the shaky rookies that posture bluntly but make poor efforts in hiding their quivering doe eyes. connections formed by his geniality are what got him here in the first place, modelling for some of the top chinese fashion magazines he’d poured over as a teenager. no, it’s better to just deal with it. he’s modelling clothes after all, dignity or personal taste shouldn’t come into play.

 

he removes the turtleneck gently from the hanger, draping the button up over the rack. he holds it against his torso and frowns at the mirror. at first glance, it seems a little too small for his build but he pulls it over his head anyways. the stylist does have access to his measurements and full body shots. they should have his full confidence.

 

or maybe not.

 

the first complication comes when the fabric twists around his shoulders, crowding them in a way that doesn’t seem right. the elastic give of the material lets him have enough leeway to tug the straining threads over the broadness of his back but the sleeves refuse to let his arms in. the width of his biceps are just not conducive to getting the last quarter of his arms through, the ends of the sleeves flapping emptily whilst his arms are pinned to his midsection.

 

he’s almost afraid to look at himself in the mirrors, terrified of ripping the shirt from laughing at how ridiculous he probably looks.

 

“oh my gosh, sorry! that’s not - ”

 

someone barges in, the door rattling in its hinges at the force with which they flung it open.

 

“i guessed it wasn’t,” yixuan cracks open an eye, cheeks flushing heavily in embarrassment, twitching his arms to demonstrate what should be obvious by now, “i think i’m stuck.”

 

“ah bother,” the stylist, he’s assuming, hooks the clothes he has in hand on the rack and approaches him cautiously, “i’m very sorry about that. that was for the cho seungyoun shoot earlier, it wasn’t meant to be there.”

 

he stops right in front of yixuan and purses his lips together. they’re curiously red. from up close now, yixuan’s frankly surprised that the guy isn’t a model himself. the coupling of the gentle definition of his face and his soft blondish fringe gives him the look of an innocent, somehow accentuated by the gold loop of his earring. the camera would eat him up, “how do you want me to uh, help?”

 

“grab the hem?” yixuan suggests, jutting his chin out as if he could see it better like that, “and just pull it over i suppose. makeup and hair haven’t gotten to me yet so you don’t have to be too gentle with it.”

 

“they haven’t gotten to you yet?” the stylist seems genuinely surprised, squinting at his face like yixuan’s trying to con him, “you’re lying.”

 

his cheeks immediately flush, fumbling with his words in a flustered storm, “w-wait you know i didn’t actually mean to say that you’re a liar uh you’re probably not, it’s just that no one usually looks that good at five am so - “

 

yixuan can feel his face getting hotter.

 

“you know what,” the stylist cuts himself off which is probably the best to save both their dignities, “let’s just um, get this shirt off.” he clears his throat and tentatively grips the bottom of it, “arms up as high as you can please?”

 

“i’ll try,” yixuan tries to smile lightly and raises the bottom half of his arms as high as they can go, “i’m zhou yixuan by the way, sorry we’re sort of doing this backwards.”

 

“li wenhan,” the stylist offers, grunting as he tries to work the fabric up and over yixuan’s body, “you’re too famous for me to not know you anyways.”

 

“probably only by name,” yixuan laughs warmly, “it’s nice to meet you.”

 

“same here,” wenhan yanks the garment higher and it frees his upper arms, musing “you’re actually a lot nicer than i was told you were going to be.”

 

“who told you that?” yixuan’s voice is muffled by the material surrounding his face, genuinely bemused. he doesn’t think he knows anyone who finds him nasty - perhaps too complacent for his own good but he’s tried his best to ensure that no one has any reason to dislike him.

 

“oh just one of the photography assistants said you were in a horrendous diva mood and - “

 

“oh, wang yibo?” yixuan gives a sigh of relief, finally understanding as the shirt comes off with a final tug, wenhan propping himself up on his tiptoes for leverage, “no wonder.” he shakes his arms about in newly found freedom, rolling his eyes affectionately, “i’ve known him since he started out in the industry. he thinks it’s funny to tell other people that i’m terrible and abusive before they meet me so they’re ‘pleasantly surprised’.”

 

“aish,” wenhan seems thrown into consternation for a moment, charmingly groomed eyebrows knit together, “what a brat.” he slides his eyes up to yixuan’s gaze and some kind of mutual understanding at the hilarity of the situation passes between them. wenhan honest to god giggles, clear as a bell and his eyes curve up into pretty crescent moons, echoing the curve of his lips. it's infectious, _he's infectious_ , and it’s not long before yixuan’s following suit, clutching his stomach in convulsions. it’s not what he expected from the shoot he’d booked for this morning but he can’t say it’s unwelcome.

 

“oi! are you done in there?” someone raps on the door curtly, “hair and makeup want him in ten.”

 

the laughter evaporates soberly as they realise they’re still on the job.

 

and that yixuan’s still shirtless.

 

there’s an urge to wrap his arms around his midsection and faint abs in self-preservation, something that shouldn’t bother him when he’s exhibited nearly every part of himself on camera. still though, in the vicinity of another person in a closed space, it’s oddly intimate. he’s glad somewhat that wenhan averts his gaze too, training his eyes on the floor as he shuffles awkwardly to the rack.

 

“so this is the first of your actual outfits,” he takes the hanger off and holds it against his body, looking down at the clothes, “i looked at a lot of your past shots and they had you dressed in a lot of black. since this spread is for the new spring season though, i wanted to go a bit brighter but still not too far from your usual.” he gestures to the clothes, “so i came up with this.”

 

“i like it,” yixuan nods sincerely, appraising it. it blends in perfectly with the usual style of clothes he wears, chic and smart, like it’s from his own closet. the muted faded denim button-up sits nicely underneath a thin but solid round-neck midnight blue sweater, the sleeves rolled up together. a pair of normal black skinny jeans round it off with simple grey socks tucked into a pair of wing tip shoes, “you’ve got nice taste.”

 

“ah really? thanks.” wenhan’s grinning as he hands the hanger over, resting on the bench as he watches yixuan pulls the tops on. it’s not an issue that he doesn’t leave the room, yixuan knows some stylists who are pedantic about making sure the clothes are treated well, but it becomes one when they get to the pants.

 

it’s only a slight hesitation but wenhan picks up on it in the midst of their comfortable silence, eyes widening like he hadn’t realised and truthfully, he probably hadn’t.

 

“oh um i’ll just leave - “

 

“no, um, it’s fine.” yixuan says quickly, holding up his hand, “i don’t mind having you here. plus, i’m a model remember?” he laughs awkwardly, “i’ve bared it all except for uh,” his eyes flick down to his crotch, “yeah.”

 

“if you’re okay with it, i guess.” wenhan sits back down, noticeably tentative but he still covers his eyes obligingly when yixuan starts pulling off his pants. it feels somewhat awkward really, having wenhan in here and well, he should probably have let wenhan go outside when he’d offered. having his presence in here gives the clothes a more personal touch, the impossible to articulate warm feeling that comes from wearing something someone else had carefully picked out for you. it’s a feeling that transcends the barrier of the screen, something to improve his work.

 

(he refuses to admit that there’s a selfish personal element to his decision too)

 

he faces the wall and strips his own jeans off, wiggling into the black pair. they mould to the shape of his legs well, even falling perfectly to just below his ankle bone. he twists to look at himself in the full length mirror and tries out his signature pose, cocking his head to the side and biting his lip.

 

“i knew you’d pull this off,” wenhan enthuses, taking his hand away from his eyes and clapping his hands together like a child, “you’re gonna make it look great on camera.”

 

“well you worked hard on it,” yixuan acknowledges insistently, pulling on the socks and huffing when one of the sleeves unroll and fall down his arm, “it’s not just me.”

 

“you inspired me to work hard on it in the first place,” wenhan rebuts petulantly, getting up and walking over to yixuan’s side to help him with the sleeve as he pulls the other sock on, “so obviously you get some credit.”

 

“my parents should get all the credit,” yixuan defers again, shaking his head modestly. wenhan’s head is so close to his face now he swears he can smell the strangely sweet scent of his shampoo. the warm fingers carefully folding his sleeve back up for him don’t help either, the pinpricks of touch too few and too many. he’s sweating inside his own skin.

 

“there done,” wenhan pulls back and puckers up his lips in a thoughtful expression. yixuan lets himself be assessed. opening his arms widely.

 

“wait, stand up. one more thing.”

 

yixuan follows his instructions and holds himself tall, patiently waiting for wenhan to make the final adjustments. jeans folded to above his ankle, sweater straightened, lint brushed off.

 

“and let’s undo both of the top buttons,” wenhan takes a step into yixuan’s personal space like it’s nothing, humming airily under his breath. yixuan shuts his eyes and tries not to let their proximity bother him, adhering to straight face. it feels like the whole continent can hear his heart thumping faster in his chest. time ticks by like the pace of a snail crawling up a wall on a rainy day. it’s a wonder no one’s come to check up on them again.

 

“there,” wenhan’s words come through soft and yixuan cracks open his eyes. wenhan’s gaze meets his for a split-second before the shorter man looks away, slurring words together under his breath.

 

“pardon?”

 

“perfect,” wenhan’s face is hard to read up close, his smile and eyes indecipherable, “it looks perfect.”

 

and just like that, never has yixuan so much wanted a camera in his hand instead of trained on him.

 

—

 

the shoot turns out spectacular. his pictures are all over weibo, thousands of comments below them with appropriate emojis suffering love-induced heart attacks. fifteen magazines send requests to his agency for bookings the day after.

 

two days later, yixuan adds his first ever condition to the his agency profile, bolded characters in his details.

 

_requires li wenhan as his stylist._


End file.
